 |
|
| Sea Prints |
| It was the songs he would miss, the glorious songs. Harmonies in mother sea moan and hiss. Unfettered songs of gliding down, stroking the sapphire gown. Songs of continuity, of the pod, flukes cutting crests. The rise to breach with worldly nod for the rhythms of life and death, the gift of drawing breath. Songs, in the deepest black, of birth, of mating and man, and what is best and pain and worst in the cycle of the ocean sphere. Of laughter and tears. Songs of knowledge of generations, of great storied roams. Songs of love and songs of veneration for the world giving of pleasure, the stars in vast measure. It was the songs he would miss, in his dying eye. The breakers pushed him to list, with memories misting to dreams, Another song it seems. � 2000 DPMcClellan |
 |
 |